A Simple Mission
by Driftwood
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission. So what could go wrong? Set after Freak Nation.


It was supposed to be a simple mission. Meet her fence, hand over the goods, get the cash and be home in time for dinner. Probably Chicken á la Cale or pasta with a pre-Pulse bottle of whatever. No problem. What could possibly go wrong? At least, that's what she'd told Logan. And Alec. 

For once, the two men had been in total agreement. Terminal City's de facto leader should not be roaming Seattle alone - not with so many anti-Transgenic mobs on the prowl for another Trannie-lynching. There was also the small matter of the Police, the National Guard and those snake-blood loons, all queuing up for the chance to take her and her perfect DNA apart, one perfect inch at a time. It was just not really a good time for a little moonlight excursion out to Sector 12. 

But, as always, she'd argued them down, insisted on going alone. After all, she was a rockin' awesome chick. Why would she need back-up? She'd managed just fine since '09 so she sure didn't need some pretty boy watching her back now. Besides, like she'd told Alec, her contact was kind of jumpy. He'd totally bail if she showed up with company and the TC Survival Fund needed that cash too badly to risk blowing the deal.

So she'd gone - alone. Girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, right?

But was it just too damn much to ask, for at least one of the men in her life to stand up to her once in while? 

Then again, what if Alec had insisted on coming? What if he was here, with her, now?

A groan escaped her lips and her feet briefly faltered as she thought of Alec. Of Alec here. And now. 

No! She couldn't think of that, wouldn't think of that. Wouldn't think of those intensely lit eyes and that hard muscular body and... 

Damn it! 

Faster and faster, she ran, feet pounding the pavement. She had to keep running. Not think. Not stop. Just run. 

Twisting and ducking through alleys and shortcuts she knew from her years at Jam Pony, Max fled through the darkened City as quickly as she dared, just holding back from blurring by fear of attracting too much attention. 

The meeting had actually gone well to start with. She'd negotiated a pretty good deal. She hadn't even realised she was in Heat until she'd thrown her contact against the wall, ripped his shirt open and started...oh jeez, what had she been thinking? The guy was such a loser. An old, ugly, disgusting loser with a beer-gut and bad breath. Thank God his phone rang when it did. The momentary distraction had jolted her back to reality for just long enough to realise what the hell she was doing. 

That was when she'd first started running. Hell, she'd even forgotten her bike, her baby, in her desperation to just run as fast and as far from that guy as she could. 

And now? Well, now she was afraid to stop running. Afraid that if she stopped, for even just a second, she'd throw herself at some other guy, any other guy. Maybe that guy, there, against the wall...

Her pace slowed as she let her eyes roam over his lean body, assessing the potential prey...

"Eyes front, soldier" she yelled, smacking herself hard on the forehead. 

She forced herself onwards. If she could just get to her old apartment, OC would help her. Tie her up or knock her out. Whatever. 

She had enough problems right now without scratching a Manticore-induced itch with some stranger off the street. Between runes popping up on her skin, self-appointed responsibility for a bunch of blockaded Xs and nomalies, the Familiars, a virally incompatible 'not like that' ex-boyfriend and a probably very compatible 'not like that but let's pretend anyway' ex-breeding partner, she really did not need another complication in her life.

Darting down the ramp of an old goods entrance, Max made her way into the cavernous heart of an abandoned warehouse complex - another shortcut she knew from her bip bip bip days. Cutting through and out the rear would be quicker than going all the way around the block. And as an added bonus, it would also get her off the streets for a few moments.

Entirely focused on accomplishing her new mission of reaching OC in the optimum possible time, she failed to register the sound of raised voices from within until retreat was no longer an option. 

Too late, she saw two cars. Two people, deep in discussion and then gaping in disbelief at her, a petite leather-clad interruption to their argument. A female, flint-haired, vaguely familiar. And a male, strong, powerful. Him.

She stopped. 

As she stared, her flight frozen at last by the presence of the male before her, a feral smile began to play across her dark features. This wasn't just any random guy off the street. This was an equal. He could match her strength and hunger. He was worthy of the hunt.

Feeling the Heat within her build, as instinct replaced reason and desire replaced logic, she ignored the female's wrath and continued presence. Instead, she stalked closer to him, a dark panther closing in on a particularly appetising quarry. It amused some distant corner of her mind to see unprecedented confusion and uncertainty wash over his face at her unexpected approach. 

Drawing near, she surveyed the rise and fall of his chest and heard his heart-rate accelerate, adrenaline flooding his veins as he tried to comprehend her appearance and intention.

He spoke, his voice fierce and demanding, but she was oblivious to the words, oblivious to anything now but the pounding of her blood and his, as Heat consumed her with his male proximity.

The element of surprise still on her side, she ensnared the back of his neck firmly in one hand and with the other traced her nails along the curve of his jaw.

He froze, stunned into brief submission by her action. Dropping one hand quickly to his chest, she used the moment to push him backwards, trapping his body against the side of the car behind.

Savouring his masculine scent, she leaned ever closer, watching with satisfaction as he fought to conceal the barely perceptible quiver pulsing through his body at her nearness. 

Her lips grazing his still captive throat, she tasted the smooth, exposed skin above his collar and in return, felt his body betray his heritage, felt him arch closer into her touch, seeking more. 

She knew then that she had him. He might pretend to fight it at first - she expected nothing less than a challenge from this one. 

But he would surrender - eventually, willingly, eagerly and with fire to match her own. No one could resist her Heat for too long. 

And for this night, at least, Ames White would be hers. 


End file.
